Special Forces: Operation Alpha: No Protection (Kindle Worlds Novella) by Gennita Low Page B

until we’ve reached somewhere safe.”
    “Not if you bleed to death. I don’t care whether you’re a SEAL or not. Right now, I’m in charge here and I want to know the status of those injured,” Legs retorted.
    Laptop and notes. Liam studied the woman closely.
    Besides the long legs and the glorious red hair loosened from the helmet, she looked as if she’d put on her fighting gear in a hurry. Her weapons were carelessly slung over her shoulders and her shoes were partially untied. The smears of dirt on her face brought out the startling blue of her eyes in stark relief. Her small nose was slightly upturned and her skin was pale, the kind that went with a true redhead.
    “SITREP of injuries,” Wolf acquiesced, in his usual quiet voice. “Be more detailed than the usual ‘just a flesh wound, sir,’ men. After that, I’d also like a SITREP from our rescuers, so we could all assess our options. I’ll go first. A bullet nicked my arm. It’s bleeding but not badly.”
    Liam liked the man. He could lead without causing friction. “I think only two of us are injured,” he said.
    “They got me in the back of my thigh. I can’t run very well,” Cookie reported reluctantly.
    “Near his ass, actually, by the looks of it,” Mozart added, with a slight grin. “Should be fun examining that wound.”
    “I’m not letting you bandage my ass,” Cookie shot back.
    “Your turn,” Wolf said to the two women. “What’s going on?”
    “I thought it’s pretty obvious the SITREP on what’s happening over there,” Legs said, dryly.
    “I’m assuming you’re part of the Kurdish troop at the checkpoint, so your people knew we were coming,” Liam pointed out. “In contrast, we have no idea who we’re talking to and the enemy we’re dealing with.”
    “I’m Ella and American,” Legs replied. “She’s Zainab. We’re both...hmm...trainees for the Kurdish Peshmerga army. We were attacked last night. One of the men who recently joined up was a spy and came in with the others to overpower us.”
    “Traitor,” Zainab spat out. She started talking angrily in Kurdish.
    “Hey, slow down a bit,” Wolf said. “How many survivors? What was the purpose of the attack?”
    “They thought our leaders were there. Wanted to take them prisoners. They became angry when they realized they were wrong, so they decided to take some of you prisoners instead,” Zainab said, in slow English.
    “They figured they could get a friendly fire situation to happen and start an incident,” Legs—Ella—continued. “They’re also sort of looking for me.”
    All the SEALs gave Ella their full attention.
    “Why?” Mozart asked.
    Liam sat up straight. Laptop and notes.
    “You’re Fitz!” He gave her a hard look.
    Ella grinned back at him.
    Liam rubbed his jaw. “Sean didn’t say a thing when he sent me to get you. Damn, like me, the enemy thinks you’re a man.”
    Ella’s grin became wider.
    * * *
    E lla hadn’t expected to be in the middle of a fire fight and certainly not powering a big gun high above a vehicle. She had expected to be reporting about one, perhaps hiding behind something solid, watching and taking pictures. Not actually shooting a weapon. Not actually making a last ditch save of a bunch of SEALs. She shook her head at the whole experience.
    She was a journalist, not a warrior. Sean had given her a lot of advice before giving her this assignment—how he wanted her to fit in with the Peshmerga female recruits so her writing would ring true, what kind of questions to ask the women fighters, personal anecdotes he wanted from her—but nothing about what to do when one had to pick up a weapon and run along with the troops. Nothing about how to keep quiet when the enemy was beating up on another man right in front of her. How to belly crawl under walls to steal the keys to the vehicle. Making a dangerous escape and taking on snipers. This wasn’t quite what she’d imagined her stay with the Peshmerga was going